


Connecticut

by angelinthecity



Series: New England [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-06-26 12:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15663444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelinthecity/pseuds/angelinthecity
Summary: Filming of the sequel to Call Me By Your Name is about to begin in a small town in Connecticut in fall 2022, when a storm hits, halting all activities and forcing everyone to hunker down. When the lights go out, long-nurtured feelings begin to unfold.[COMPLETE as of Oct 2, 2018]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Regular updates can be expected; the whole thing has been mapped out and chapters will be posted as I proceed with the final edits. (Also, during my initial editing I realized that Timmy kind of seems to be wet a lot in this but somehow I doubt anyone will mind.)
> 
> And: fiction fiction fiction. I (unfortunately) don't know anyone or own anything.

**Connecticut, November 2022**

****

”I’m not sure I understand. These bookings were made months in advance, how can you not have the rooms?”

”I’m so sorry, ma'am, but there must have been some kind of a glitch in the system, and unfortunately we are fully booked for the night.”

It is getting late and I can see that the production company assistant, Paula, is growing more and more anxious. Which is understandable: the sequel to our film will start production tomorrow in this small Connecticut town, and it has been her responsibility to take care of Timmy and me and put us up at the best inn in town. Now that we are standing in their lobby, that merit seems debatable however, since the place has apparently lost the room reservations.

Tired after having traveled all day from California, I silently hope that they come up with a solution before we all hit utter exhaustion. The receptionist is now showing Paula his computer screen, which makes her sigh and she walks over to us.

 ”Okay, Armie, Timothée, I'm so, so sorry, but there seems to be some kind of an issue and they tell me that they don't have your rooms.”

”They aren’t ready yet? That's fine, we can go hang out somewhere while we wait.”

Timmy doesn’t seem too bothered. His easygoingness has clearly not worn off over the years.

”No, that’s not exactly it; there has been a mix-up and the rooms have been given to other guests.”

”What do you mean?”

”It appears that somehow their reservation system has lost our bookings, well, one of them, so we'll have to think of another plan. I'm so sorry, and I’ll figure something out asap, I just wanted to keep you guys posted.”

 ”Alright, thanks. Where's Luca by the way?” Timmy asks, looking around the lobby as if to see if our director should be here as well.

”He's staying with their friend in town,” Paula explains. ”And the rest of the crew is booked in a hotel just outside the town limit. Apparently we could only afford to put you, the stars, up in suites in the actual town where we shoot.”

My slightly jetlagged brain works slow and I only now realize what she said earlier.

”Wait, did you say they've lost one of the bookings? How about the other one?”

”That's apparently still there, but there's two of you, so I'm just going to go call Daniela and see if she has a plan B.”

”So you mean they do have one suite available to us?”

”Well, yes, to one of you, but...” Paula clearly has no idea what I’m getting at and she seems eager to get going to work her magic, her cellphone already half way up her ear, ready to call Luca’s personal assistant.

I ignore the voice in my head that tries to tell me that I have ulterior motives for what I’m about to suggest, and glance over at Timmy. I’m not surprised that unlike Paula, he can follow my logic and he shrugs as to say that he would be fine with whatever I decide.

I turn back to Paula.

”You know what, I think there’s plenty of room in a suite for both of us. It’ll save us all some time and trouble if Timmy and I just share the room.”

Her eyes light up immediately, but I can see that she is hesitant about whether she should take the offer seriously. She looks at me and then at Timmy.

”Umm, are you sure?”

She is new in her position and what she means is: _are you sure you are not going to make a big deal out of this later and get me in trouble with my boss_.

”We’re sure,” Timmy confirms. ”If we can just get checked in and get the room key, then we can all call it a night.”

”Alright then, that’s fantastic, thank you. Everyone said that you guys would be great but you really are the best.”

She scurries back to the receptionist’s desk, visibly delighted that her night won’t be spent driving around in the dark in this small town after all. She is probably also a little relieved that she isn’t met with the wrath of the movie stars she was supposed to take care of. Little does she know that wrath could not be farther from my mood right now.

 

 

 

We walk along the narrow hallway on the second floor in search of our room and notice that they are all named after artists.

”The Mondrian room, it’s this one.” Timmy turns the key in the lock and we step in.

The spacious suite has elegant pearl grey interiors, and the room is dominated by a king bed made with crisp white linens with a cashmere blanket laying on the foot of the bed. The thick, grey suede-covered headboard is flanked by wall-mounted nightlights above likewise wall-mounted slabs of concrete that are supposed to serve as bedside tables, I guess. Low dressers line up the walls on each side of the bed.

A flat screen tv is hidden from the obvious view in the cupboard opposite from the bed and the walls are stylishly bare, save for a large framed print of an abstract Piet Mondrian painting. I like it. It reminds me of the time I visited Timmy in New York and he took me to the Guggenheim museum.

By the window, at the other end of the room there is a separate sitting area with a low table, two armchairs, and a sage green couch that looks like it has been designed with aesthetical values in mind rather than for comfort. The floor lamp in the corner is so minimalistic that I wouldn’t know where to start looking for the light switch. There is no desk in the room, but maybe no one came here to do any actual work.

All in all, surprisingly fancy and modern for a small town inn. I walk to the window and see that we have a view to the quaint, overgrown courtyard which fits the expectations much better.

While I’m inspecting the room, Timmy has dropped his bags on the table in the sitting area and is now unpacking his belongings on the couch. I sit down on the bed and watch him for a second, smiling to myself: his packing method looks just as messy and haphazard as ever, miscellaneous clothes and books appearing alternatingly from his backpack and his duffel bag.

”Are you sure you want to do that there, Tim? You’ll have to keep running back and forth for your stuff. There’s plenty of room to unpack stuff here on your side as well,” I point to the dresser on the other side of the bed.

”I…um…I had figured I’d sleep here.”

”What do you mean? Why?”

”Because there’s no way you’re going to fit on this couch, man,” he laughs. ”So there’s no point in doing any rock-paper-scissors over who gets the bed.”

”No, I meant why would anyone have to sleep there? That couch looks like it’s made for modern art museums, not for comfortable sleeping.”

”Yeah, well, I didn’t want to assume that we would–”

”If my memory serves me correctly, you were hardly in your own room during our previous press tour either,” I remind him.

He chuckles. ”I know I used to take liberties with the two of you but I was young and excited and didn’t really know the protocols, and most of all…”

At first I have no idea what he is getting at, but his suddenly apologetic look then clues me in.

”There were two of us then and now it’s just me?”

He nods.

”Oh come on, we’ve spent days in bed together naked with tons of people around us. I think we can manage to share one now, with clothes on, without an audience.”

”I’m not sure if bringing _that_ up provides the exact tone of platonic reassurance that you were going for, but okay,” he grins and goes to recollect his things faster than I would have expected. Or maybe I’m just imagining it.

After, he sits on the bed too. ”So what’s next? Have you eaten?”

”No, and I’m starving. I saw a tiny Italian place from the cab on the way over. I think it’s no more than a block or two away, on the main street.”

”Sure, sounds perfect. Let me just get changed.”

I watch him disappear into the bathroom with clothes he grabs from his bag, and after he is gone, I feel like I can properly exhale for the first time tonight.

Or more specifically, for the first time since we hugged each other in the downstairs lobby.

It has been seventy-four weeks now since we last saw each other in person. I sort of wish I didn’t know the exact tally but I do.

Even during that time, we have been talking almost daily so we are not strangers by any means, but it has still caught me by surprise how different it is to actually be in the same room, breathe in the same air. He seems taller, even though it is probably not true. I had almost forgotten how often he does his sudden twirls, like a bird interested in everything that is going on around him. His tongue keeps flitting in and out of his mouth and over his lips just as much as on the screen of my phone, but it looks more wet and pink in person and makes me remember how it tasted in my mouth a million years ago.

Thus far I have been able to live with the sobering realization I had on that lonely morning in Crema the summer before last; the truth nicely tucked away in a safe corner of my brain, where it has been tended to every now and then but always deemed too risky to be taken out into the daylight. Even though I don’t see any point in doing that now either, his presence has definitely made it harder to forget that it is there.

”Okay, ready to go?”

Timmy drops his clothes from earlier on the bed. I notice that he has changed into a nicer oxford shirt and exchanged his sweatpants for black skinny jeans. I catch a whiff of freshly applied cologne when he passes me at the door when we leave.

I take a deep breath and follow him to dinner. This will be fine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go out for late dinner. Afterwards, time for bed...

Unsurprisingly, 10pm on a Thursday night is not a busy dinner time in this small town, so when we get to the tiny Italian restaurant, we can pretty much choose our table. We settle for one in the corner, next to a wall of wine bottles. Outside it's dark and chilly but the family-feel of the place and the candles on the dark wooden tables make for a relaxed atmosphere.

We are both hungry and devour the menus brought to us. Timmy keeps announcing the best sounding dishes out loud as he reads on, as if we wouldn't settle for just about anything right now. I notice that they have a Franciacorta from Lombardy on the sparkling wine list and take it as a sign that we have to have it. After the server has popped open the bottle and poured two glasses, I raise a toast.

”To Italy! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

”Or probably wouldn’t even know each other.”

”True. Thank you Italy for gifting me with my best friend.”

”Oh man, this is getting way too cheesy already,” Timmy laughs, throwing his head back.

”And we’re only on our first glass,” I grin and take a gulp. ”So anyway, it’s been a while. They really kept you on a tight leash over there, didn’t they?”

”Yup, the streaming services still have seemingly unlimited budgets, so filming an entire season can take forever even if it’s only ten episodes. Especially if you have a director known for his meticulousness.”

”And sorry I couldn’t come to Toronto before you finished up there, but I had the kids and…”

”Don’t worry about it, I totally get it and come on, let’s not act like we haven’t been in touch. I called you last night. And two days before that.”

I smile. ”True.”

He returns my smile and adds: ”I’m really glad we’re actually here now in flesh and blood, though.”

”Me too. It’s just different, talking to a screen.” Very different.

At that moment the server arrives carrying our food. I dig into my steak and eye Timmy’s plate of pesto-drenched pasta with envy.

”I don’t get how you stay in that shape with all the carbs you eat. I need to work out and still diligently watch what I eat.”

”Youth,” he shrugs.

”You’re not that young anymore,” I tease him. ”In fact, you’re almost my age when we shot the first one.”

”But just as naive as I was then.”

”Oh come on, you’re a seasoned pro now. Or are you just fishing for compliments?” I laugh fondly and kick his calf gently under the table.

”No, man, it’s just that…” He grows more serious. ”I kinda feel like I’m still just as confused as ever. And last time we were able to do everything basically in total obscurity; now there are so many expectations. And navigating the constant publicity makes me shudder, I’d rather just do the work and retreat for the rest of the time.”

”The media is a special beast, yes,” I sigh. ”And the public with their access through social media and camera phones everywhere… You remember how during the first months after the divorce announcement, I just wanted to wear a disguise everywhere?”

He nods. ”Or become invisible. I remember.”

”And all those theories from people who had barely met either me or her were blasted across the tabloids… I didn’t mind for myself, I get that the next day it’s something and someone different on the front page, but the kids... Even if we tried to shield them, they would hear things from friends and friends’ parents – things that weren’t remotely true.”

”I’ve told you this before, but I really admire the way you’ve handled it, though. Not that I’m surprised. You both are mature and decent people.”

”Thanks, I appreciate you saying that.”

”I mean it.”

”And how about you, is there any less frenzy now that you and Ines aren’t..?” Up until two months ago, whenever I had to mention her name it always felt mildly like someone was wringing my insides, but not anymore. Not after they broke up.

”I think they are after her now more than me. Poor thing. Or at least I’m hoping that thing will stay as peaceful for me as they have been lately. You know, that there won’t be too many idiotic rumors to shut down during filming.”

”It’s funny, as soon as you’re single they try to pair you off with anyone they come up with that would sell magazines or earn clicks, whether you’ve ever actually even met them or not.”

”I’m just glad that almost all our filming locations here are kind of obscure. Maybe that would help us stay a bit off radar in general.”

”Let’s hope so. Last time was so divine, everything getting to be just about the work-”

”–and good food and wine and other recreations.”

His addition makes me smile, as he intended, and he raises his glass with a wink. Oh, how I have missed this. Having him across the table from me is so much better than relying on FaceTiming.

”You bet. But here we are, six years later and let’s face it, there’s obviously going to be interest around the filming already. You know, _see Chalamet shooting the sequel! Click for who he had lunch with!_ "

”Well, if anyone’s watching, tonight you’re the lucky one who gets to take me home,” he says lifting an eyebrow and stuffs his mouth with fusilli.

”In that case, they could also caption it with you being a really cheap date, just a plate of pasta and you’re all ready to go…”

We both laugh but in that little corner in my brain I find myself wishing that it didn’t have to be a joke. Not the cheap date part, but the taking him home part.

 

 

 

Back at our room at the inn, I turn on the television and as I flip through the channels, one of the late night shows is announcing their musical guest.

”Do you miss her at all?” I ask Timmy and wave towards the television.

He is pulling off his shoes by the door and cranes his neck to see the screen. Her name reads at the bottom of the screen, Ines Lemercier.

”I hope this doesn’t sound too horrible, but no, not really,” he frowns. ”Like I kept telling you then, I think we were both just using each other to alleviate the occasional boredom when we were both in the city. I mean, she’s a fun girl, of course, but it was never more than that at any point of those fifteen, no, fourteen, months. And we weren’t even exclusive for the most part of that. Anyway, the press just made it into more than it was because it was a media-friendly narrative, and it really wasn’t in either of our interests to make too much of an effort to correct that,” he adds slightly apologetically.

I have known all of this but it is oddly reassuring to hear it again nonetheless. A French singer taking the States by a storm, she had been living only three subway stops away from him in New York and been plastered on every magazine cover with his arm around her. All the way on the opposite side of the continent, I had tried not to be jealous but with varying levels of success.

”We hardly ever even spoke when she was on tour and I was on location. Careers before personal life and so on,” Timmy continues.

”But you do keep in touch with me and your other friends and family even when you’re shooting,” I remind him.

”Yeah, that probably says a lot about our relationship that I didn’t, with her,” he admits ruefully.

I force myself to say the thing a supportive friend is expected to say. ”Well, I hope that at some point you’ll meet that someone that you will want to make that call to every morning before you go on set.”

He opens his mouth as if to say something but then only nods.

I switch the channel again and we catch the end of a local weather report. A heavy storm will be approaching the Northeast over the next 24 hours, but according to the radar map, it should proceed along the coastline barely making landfall, so we aren’t too concerned.

 

 

 

We both seem to avoid calling it a night, either consciously or subconsciously. When it becomes clear that we can’t keep putting it off anymore and decide to turn in for the night, Timmy stands next to the bed in his t-shirt and shorts, hesitant.

”Are you sure you don’t mind me hogging half of the bed? I could still sleep on that couch, you know.”

”I’m sure, don’t be silly. I have to warn you though, I have been sleeping alone for the past year and a half so I may forget that there’s someone else in the bed and sprawl all over you. Just push me back to my side if that happens.”

”I don’t know man, I might enjoy feeling someone on top of me for a change, so who knows, I might not,” he teases.

Logically, my brain knows that he isn’t serious but my body somehow doesn’t, and it renders me incapable of coming up with a witty comeback. The silence goes on a little too long, so he feels the need to add:

”It was a joke, man.”

My laugh sounds awkward. ”I knew that.”

”I wasn’t trying to… Anyway, goodnight then.”

As he shifts and turns under the covers trying to find a comfortable position, his leg brushes against mine and while it is accidental and very innocent, we both pull away as if burned by a flame.

”Sorry,” he mutters and I think I see a hint of a blush before he turns his face away and turns off the light.

 

****


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weather forecast conveniently predicts a storm to match the turbulence in Armie's thoughts.

The foggy November morning air feels crisp in my lungs, but the weather has hints of unpredictability, as if it could take a turn at any moment.

I do my typical 45-minute run, happy to be outside for once instead of in a gym. It is early so the rest of the town is still asleep, save for an occasional dog walker. They all greet me – not because they would know me, but because it is the decent thing to do in a small community. The calm and quiet of the empty streets serves me well and gives me an opportunity to try and arrange my thoughts from last night.

The fact that I haven’t had anyone in my bed, or even dated anyone, since my marriage ended didn’t come as news to Timmy. However, he doesn’t know the whole truth why. He has never asked either, even though he knows that there was no drama in the divorce, just two people slowly grown apart, so one could assume that there would be room for new people in my life.

I have occasionally wished he would ask and force me to answer, so that I could make him responsible for the outcome. It has always felt too risky to tell him myself how big of a role he plays in my life and possibly ruin our friendship in the process, if he thought I was crazy. So despite the dizzy euphoria I have felt in my heart when I have managed to make him blush after a compliment, or the boiling desire I have felt somewhere else after he has occasionally picked up my FaceTime call without a shirt on, I have firmly stood by my decision to cherish my feelings for him as a friend and friend only.

But something happened during the night that managed to make me a little less firm in my resolve. In the middle of the night, I woke up briefly when I felt him gently fixing the fallen duvet over me so that I wouldn’t get cold. He had clearly thought I was asleep – I know that because he wouldn’t have done that otherwise. He never shows too much physical affection towards me, almost shying away on purpose. Earlier I have taken it as further proof that he himself doesn’t have any feelings for me that would go beyond a friend and a colleague, but now it makes me think whether there is more to it than that.

As I run along the streets covered with fallen leaves, I keep thinking about the fleeting, featherlight touch I had felt on my temple before he had settled back to his side and gone back to sleep.

 

 

 

Back at the lobby of the inn, the receptionist waves at me to come and look at the tv behind his desk. He has the weather channel on.

”They are now saying that the storm might actually hit this county too and bring heavy rain and flooding. They are recommending that people plan ahead and avoid going outside starting from noon. We will be providing food and coffee in the dining room all day, so please just stay in and stay safe.”

I thank him for the heads up and fill two paper cups with freshly-made coffee from the side table before returning to our room.

I proudly announce my coffee delivery as soon as I open the door. I find Timmy sitting on the edge of the bed, fresh from the shower and watching the weather channel. Trying to ignore his slick wet hair and the waterdrops still glistening on his skin, I tell him what I learned in the lobby.

”Yup, I saw that too.” He points to the tv. ”The worst is expected towards the early evening. And it might not be until tomorrow morning that the rain has subsided enough for anyone to go outside.”

I hand him his coffee.

”I wonder how this is going to affect our schedule.”

 

 

 

As we sit down with our eggs and toast in the breakfast room, both of our phones beep simultaneously. Timmy checks his first and reads the text out loud.

”It’s from Paula. They will not proceed with anything today because of the storm warning. Everything on today’s itinerary will be postponed til tomorrow. If the storm passes by the morning, that is.”

I check that I have received the same text.

” _I hope you will be able to entertain yourselves._ What does that mean?”

Timmy shrugs. ”We do have the scripts; we can always use the time to prepare.”

”Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”

”And I actually have a couple of scenes that I still need to work through some more, I realized on the flight over that I had gotten this one critical mood shift all wrong.”

We have been waiting for this film to start production for so long – years, really – so it is of course disappointing that there will now be, yet again, a further wait before we can begin. Still, I’m secretly pleased that by the looks of it, I will get one more day with Timmy before we join the rest of the group and I wilI have to inevitably share him with everyone else.

 

 

 

Before cooping ourselves up in our room, we decide to make a quick run to the nearest grocery store to stock up on snacks, just in case we really end up having to stay in for the rest of the day.

”This is kind of like back in Crema, isn’t it?” Timmy says wistfully when we walk towards the store on the tree-lined sidewalk, passing Colonial era homes one after another. ”Quiet town, just us, walking to get food.”

”I guess so,” I smile and stuff my hands deeper into the pockets of my coat. The wind is already picking up.

When we get to the store we divide and conquer: Timmy stocks up on chips and beer and I concentrate on securing our protein intake by picking up salami and other procured meat products. We meet back at the cashier where I notice him also carrying a mega bag of pistachios.

”Those better not end up in our couch,” I warn him trying to sound serious, but he sees it for the joke that it is and laughs heartily. I mentally prepare myself for the clean-up duty anyway, as he isn’t exactly known for picking up after himself.

We have apparently ended up lingering between the aisles a little too long, because as we stand in line at the cashier, the first rain drops start to hit the store windows. When we step outside, the rain is already falling down in large splashes and we get properly caught in the shower. We run for the last three blocks, but end up getting soaked nevertheless.

 

 

 

We half-curse, half-laugh when we finally reach our room breathless, doubling over our soggy grocery bags. The rain water rolls from our wet hair and down the sides of our faces. Shivering with the cold, we peel off our sopping wet clothes as soon as we can. Timmy is faster than me, already down to his underwear, asking if he can take a warm shower first.

”Sure, go ahead,” I gesture, trying not to look too hard at the fabric clinging to his skin in all the right places and realizing that if he doesn’t go in there soon, I may have to take a cold shower instead of a warm one myself.

I would prefer these less-than-platonic thoughts to go back to wherever they came from, since I’m not allowed to follow through on any of them. I had thought it would be fun to get this chance to spend more time together, but right now, being stuck in close quarters with him for an entire day sounds less like a brilliant idea and more like a challenge.

 

 

 

When I get out of the bathroom, Timmy has already pulled out his script and and is sitting by the window in his dry clothes. Even though it is barely noon, it is already getting grayer and darker outside because of the rain. Luckily he has somehow managed to locate a light switch on the much too modern-art-influenced floor lamp.

Deciding to leave my own script alone for now, I turn on the television instead.

”Hey, do you need me to pull out my headphones or are you able to do your thing even if I watch with the sounds on?” No answer. ”Timmy?”

”I’m sorry, what?” He looks up as if he hasn’t heard a thing I said. ”Umm, no, go ahead.”

The alternatives seem to be infomercials and endless predictions of the strength and the route of the storm, until I find _Some Like It Hot_ on the movie channel. A classic, can’t go wrong with that, I conclude, so I get comfortable on the bed.

I glance at Timmy who has curled up sideways in one of the armchairs, dangling his long legs over the armrest. He is fully focused on reading his notes, the tip of his tongue held between his teeth. He flips over to the next page and continues reading, squinting his eyes occasionally, and I can’t help but think how nice this kind of life would be. Us, in our living room, reading scripts or watching films. Either discussing the impressions we get from them or sitting in comfortable silence like now.

I force myself to concentrate on the movie.

Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon are just about to meet Marilyn Monroe at the train station, when all of a sudden the television goes dark, as does the floor lamp next to Timmy.

”Did the power go out?” he lifts his eyes and looks around.

”So it would appear.”

”Okay, so now what?”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The power is out and the boys are rained in without anything to do. Little vignettes of their more or less weighted conversations during the afternoon.

Over the course of the afternoon, the winds gain speed outside and we lounge lazily in the room, me sprawled on the bed and Timmy contorted in the armchair. The power is still out, so he gives up on his script when it gets too dark to read without the now useless floor lamp. Our conversation drifts without any real destination or purpose, and he occasionally throws me the bag of chips from the table and I reciprocate by hitting him with pistachios from the bed.

 

 

 

”So where were you calling from last night exactly?” I ask, thinking back to his smiling, half-drunken face on the screen of my phone, loud music playing in the background.

”Oh just out. We were at that place on 1st Ave that I told you about earlier.”

”Was it like a last night out before getting back to work?”

”Something like that; and also my buddy had made a major sale of some of his artworks, so we all went out to celebrate,” he shrugs.

”It was kinda late, so I was just wondering.”

”It was only 10pm!”

”Yeah, in California. But 1am for you. I thought maybe something had happened and you weren’t able to make it.”

”Nah, I just felt like seeing you,” he smiles.

 

 

 

”You have been working non-stop for quite a while now. Are you planning on taking any time off after this?” I ask, slightly concerned about his well-being.

”I should probably try to, shouldn’t I?”

”When does your second season start filming, it’s not going to be for a while, right, because the first one hasn’t even come out yet?”

”No, I think they are thinking towards the end of 2023 or early 2024. I do have the Cold War era movie coming up early next year, but it’s not going to take more than a couple of weeks. It’s only a small part since it’s an ensemble thing.”

”Promise me you’ll make sure to get rest at some point and not burn yourself out, okay?”

”I promise, I promise,” he says but I know he loves his job so much that I doubt that he actually will. ”And you, when did that courtroom film of yours start again? You have done films back-to-back too, can you get any vacation before that?”

”It’s not until February, so yeah, I’m planning to take a break between this and that one. Maybe go on a trip depending on how the schedules with the kids will work out. They have school so I can’t take them with me.”

”Maybe I should go with you,” he suggests breezily.

I smile and nod, but we leave it at that.

 

 

 

”I haven’t been following too closely, but after the initial madness, the press hasn’t really been on your case lately, have they? About you dating anyone, that is?” Timmy asks.

”Luckily, no. There’s apparently been interesting enough stuff going on in Hollywood without needing to pull my nonexistential love life into the mix.”

”But between us, you _will_ want to have someone to share your life with eventually, right?”

”I guess, maybe,” I reply evasively.

Timmy either doesn’t pick up on my tone or decides not to care.

”Do you think you’ll start looking again anytime soon? Or do you think it would be still too soon for the kids to bring in anyone new?”

I don’t know what to say. I wish I could be brave enough to tell him that I have no interest in looking for anyone _new_. That in fact, everything I have ever wanted is right here in this room right now. That every conversation we have, only circles back to that thought in my head. If only –  if only there was a way to tell him without the risk of losing him. But it would be impossible to go back to this easy connection afterwards, if I told him how I felt and he felt the opposite. My telling him would only ruin everything we have now, if he didn’t feel even remotely the same. And why would he? I don’t know why I’m even entertaining the thought. Sure, he gushes about our friendship in public, we both do, but he has never indicated anything beyond that, even privately.

Still, there are times when I wonder if there is a chance that he might think the same and that we are missing out on something extraordinary, because we are both too afraid to rock the boat. Even during today, there have been moments when I have turned to him and have caught him already watching me. The look in his eyes in those moments has further started to make me falter in my resolve.

 

 

 

As the darkness of the early evening eventually starts to fall, it feels like a comforting veil. The maid had brought candles to us after the power initially went out, but we decide to only light up two of them, to achieve some level of visibility but not ruin the calming, velvety mood. I place one candle on my dresser in the far corner of the room, and Timmy places another on the sitting area table from where it casts pleasantly long shadows over the room. His fingers brush mine when he hands the matches back to me.

The touch reminds me of his light touch last night when I was supposed to be sleeping.

”Why aren’t you as affectionate with me as you are with others?” It is easier to say things in the dark, so it just comes out.

He seems confused and taken by surprise. ”What do you mean?”

I feel like a petulant child asking him something seemingly so ridiculous, but it is something I have thought about probably more often than I should have.

”Well, for example, with many of your old costars or buddies you give them long hugs at events, but with me you’re often first going for a handshake and I have to make it clear I’m going to wrap my arms around you. And even then, you try to quickly squirm away, all awkward and angled limbs.”

He clears his throat. ”I don’t know what you mean.”

”And it’s not like you would have to do anything you don’t want to do, I just don’t get it. I thought we were just as close as you are with them.”

He bites down on his lower lip. ”Closer.”

”That sounds a bit paradoxical then.”

”It does, but it’s not, really.” He sighs. ”For me, there’s nothing at stake with the others, so I don’t really think twice or hold back.”

”I’m not sure I… What are you saying?”

”That with you it’s different, for me. Even a hug is never just a friendly hug.”

”What is it, then?”

He skips over that question. ”By the way, if you remember, I did very nicely stroke your cheek at the Ellen interview during our press last time. All you did was blush so bad that even the people in the back row couldn’t miss it, so I haven’t wanted to startle you again.” There is a hint of sadness in his voice.

”I can’t believe you remember that.” I rub my eyes, embarrassed. ”It just took me by surprise. We had been kidding around and exaggerating things for fun in all of the appearances, but that was so…tender that it didn’t pass for a joke.”

”It’s because it wasn’t.”

It’s my turn to skip over that, because I’m too afraid to ask him to elaborate. Surely I would be just setting myself up for disappointment. ”But it wasn’t like that in Crema; you would openly hug me or lay your head on my shoulder when you fell asleep when we were watching the documentaries at Luca’s and it was never a big deal.”

”That was different, we were in the bubble then.”

I must look puzzled, because he feels the need to explain.

”Bubble, you know, like nothing was real and we were just playing our parts and we could do whatever we wanted, because nothing would really mean anything or have any real consequences. And actually, I feel like I only started liking you for real when we hung out afterwards.” He looks pensive. ”I mean, I was too afraid to fully trust my initial feelings, but when we connected outside that bubble too, in real life, it seemed, you know, legit. And like, it wouldn’t be taken away from me after six weeks or whatever.”

”You liiiike meeee…” I aim a playful pistachio at his chest in an attempt at breaking the tension and silencing all the _what ifs_ that have raised their heads in my mind during this conversation.

”Come on, that’s all you picked up from that?” he laughs but also turns his face away so that I can’t see his expression. Damn this darkness.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love these boys but Jesus they can be dumb… <3 In the next installment someone will FINALLY stop fudging, though.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie speaks.

Timmy stands by the window, peeking outside. The narrow walk paths in the courtyard are filling with flooding water.

”This is also kind of like Crema, all those times when we were delayed due to the rain. Are we predetermined to repeat the entire experience?”

”Not that I’m happy we’re delayed, but you know, could be worse. If I had to choose a filming experience to repeat, that would be the one.”

”For me, too.” He flashes me a smile that quickly dies down. We both know that no experience is ever going to be like that again for us. Even if we are both here, about to inhabit the same characters with the same group of people around us, things are already different, because we are different.

A line from Oliver’s paper from the first film starts echoing in my head. _’If the meaning of the river flowing is not that all things are changing so that we cannot encounter them twice, but that some things stay the same only by changing.’_

Like the river, we would never be the same if I ever told him how I truly felt about him. But could it float us into a different place, to a bend where I would still be allowed to keep us, keep him? And conversely, would I eventually lose us, if I held on to the status quo too tightly when everything in me and around me was rippling into new configurations?

I look at his profile, cast in the flickering light from the candle. He is wearing a plain t-shirt and mussed-up hair as his fingers have been raking through it all afternoon and still my heart swells at how beautiful he looks. This is my best friend, and there is no one in this world I would rather talk to and spend time with, but I would also like to take off that t-shirt and–

I inhale sharply.

”Timmy, can I tell you something?”

”Of course. What’s up?”

”That experience, shooting that first film six years ago, has actually been the only thing that has made me feel like things are falling into place, like my life makes sense.”

He looks at me from under those eyelashes that hide the most expressive eyes I have ever seen on anyone.

Should I really be doing this? I have been in tough spots numerous times in my life; why does this simple thing feel so pivotal? Here we go.

”And you know, for a long time, I thought it was just the carefree state that we all were in in Italy, the short work days followed by the leasurely dinners. Or the unparallel support I got from Luca with everything.”

He nods and I continue.

”So in search of that, I tried to recreate it by taking the family there the summer before last – you remember, right after you had visited us before flying to Toronto? Anyway, everything was great, the weather was perfect, Luca and I had great conversations. The food was excellent, the relaxing feel of the town seeped into all of us. Everything was just like before, except I didn’t feel like before. Not like I had expected to feel.”

I swear the room is getting warmer by now; I can already feel the sweat on my forehead. Taking off my sweater does little to help but I do it anyway. I glance at Timmy and he has been listening to me intently, lips slightly parted.

”The old lady at the caffetteria – you know, the one behind the town square – saw me drinking an espresso there alone one morning, and when she was clearing the tables, she casually asked me if I needed anything. As soon as I heard myself answering _’no’_ , I realized that yes, despite all these wonderful things, there was something missing. The piece without which nothing else made sense.”

My gaze has flitted between him and the sweater in my lap while I have been speaking, but I find it impossible to lift my eyes back to him now. There is so much at stake with this simple word and I can’t form it if his ever-trusting eyes are looking at me like that. My fingers pushing the zipper pull of the sweater nervously back and forth and back, I force myself to say what I have contemplated for the past year and a half.

”You.”

 

 

 

I look at him right after my confession, but he has turned to face the courtyard again and because of the darkness, I can only make out his outline against the window. I keep talking to his back.

”And based on how things had been in our marriage for a long time, we had already suspected that it was probably going to be our last summer together. I think we had just ignored that to make it through the trip. Maybe there had also been hope that things would turn around during it, but at that moment I knew that the emptiness that I felt wasn’t going to go away if I returned to my old life. Not when what I actually wanted was you.”

I stop for a moment to formulate the perhaps most important thing.

”I know that this may seem like it’s coming out of the blue and I’m not saying any of this with the intention of expecting anything back from you right now, or ever, really, and I absolutely don’t want to mess up our friendship…” I trail off and swallow before my voice has a chance to crack. ”It’s just that these past barely 24 hours have already made it clear that I can’t be physically near you and not tell you, because it’s all I have thought about since I saw you here.”

It has been easier for me to say all this with him being further away from me, standing all the way across the room by the window. The space between us acting as a buffer, ready to dilute the sharpest stings of rejection or pity before they reach me.

But Timmy is not me, and he needs to be close to be saying what he wants to say. He walks over and flops on the bed, curls up next to me, the length of his entire body touching mine. With his chin propped up on my shoulder, he simply says:

”Armie, I worship you. I’ve always worshipped you. In every possible way.” And then: ”I thought you knew.”

For once, I’m at a loss of words, so I gather him in my arms instead. His head fits in the nook between my chin and my shoulder like it was made for him and maybe it was.

We are both silent, the only sounds coming from the rain outside.

Then he pinches my arm; I flinch.

”Just had to make sure this was real.”

”I think the way that works is that you’re supposed to pinch yourself,” I chuckle.

He flashes a smile that melts everything inside me. ”I just feel like my brain is short circuiting. Two minutes ago you were my best friend and now… I don’t know how to process this information or where to even start.”

”Me neither. The good thing is, we have quite a lot of time right now to do nothing but figure that out.”

I push an unruly curl away from his forehead gently with my thumb and let my other fingers follow it, pushing them all into his hair. His lips brush my wrist and he leans his head against my palm and we just breathe, trying to let our brains catch up with our hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original CMBYN quote is obviously not my doing. 
> 
> Thank you all for sharing my impatience with these boys :) Next update in a few days!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie makes a well-intended suggestion that he soon starts to regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is coming to you from beyond the grave due to The Great SWM Stage Door Incident™ that has recently killed us all

We lie in bed, still in the dark and listen to the thunder that now roars outside. Timmy is tucked against my side, my arm tightly around him as if I was afraid that he would fly away at any moment if I wasn’t careful.

”I told you once that you are in my childhood memories now too.”

He chuckles. ”Yeah, in front of a million French tv viewers.”

”In that moment, I felt that way very vividly, but I don’t think I truly understood what it meant. But now I know that even back then I couldn’t imagine my life without you, any part of it. My brain tells me that I existed before we met, but in my heart, my _life_ didn’t begin until then.”

Timmy slips his hand into mine and his fingertips trace the lines on my palm. He places a kiss on my shoulder. The next one lands on the crook of my neck, the one after it on my jaw.

”Careful,” I say, tensing up a little.

”What?” A featherlight kiss on the cheek.

”I know what you’re doing and we can’t.” I can’t believe I’m saying that but I have to.

He pulls away, stunned and confused.

”But I thought…”

”Yeah, I know, and _God,_ Tim, I want to, too, but we can’t, not now.”

”Now?”

”For a while.”

He sits up, squeezes the corner of his mouth and blinks.

”For a while?”

”Now you’re just repeating my words.”

”I honestly don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

I owe him an explanation. I have been trying to hold off this discussion, stupidly hoping I would come up with another solution in the mean time. A solution that would allow me to touch him, kiss him, devour him. He probably thinks now that I don’t want to. No, I just hide it better, always have. Have gotten accustomed to it.

I rub my face, frustrated.

”Fuck… It’s not that I don’t want to, because believe me I do, _so badly_ …” I take a deep breath. ”But we’re mainly here to do a job and–”

”Are you accusing me of being unprofessional? After what you yourself just…”

His cheeks redden with embarrassment.

”No. No. I would never do that and you would never give anyone any reason to. That’s not it at all,” I reach out to touch his arm to reassure him. ”Please just hear me out.”

He huffs, still hurt but willing to listen.

”I just feel… nervous about this whole sequel thing and all the expectations. And I mean, we both know the film heavily relies on our chemistry, right?”

”Yeah, and..?”

”–But I’ve heard from so many people that you need some level of real-life tension for that undefinable spark; that the magic can be gone just like that if the underlying desire has been fulfilled.”

He looks incredulous.

”How many films do you know where a real-life couple has played lovers and they’ve been lauded for their palpable chemistry?” I ask and he shrugs. ”Exactly. So I’m just thinking that maybe we shouldn’t jeopardize that, since we have enough pressure as it is. And after these seven weeks, we will have plenty of time to catch up anyway, and everything will be that much sweeter.”

I try to appease him, reaching for his hand and pressing my lips against his palm.

He stares at the wall, studying the labyrinth of lines in the Mondrian print for what seems to be forever, before he reluctantly turns to me.

”I don’t necessarily agree, and let the record show that I don’t believe anything would ever stop me from wanting you like crazy.” He brings my hand to his lips, in turn, and looks at me. ”But, if that’s how you really want to do this, then I respect that and obviously don’t want to pressure you on anything.”

Christ, those eyes. I must be crazy for even suggesting this, but I do feel strongly about this and I just wish that I didn’t have to disappoint him while holding onto my decision.

”Come on T, we’ve done this once before, we can do it again.”

I place my hand on his cheek and he noses my palm gently.

”I didn’t know back then that anything else would have even been an option.”

”Well, it wasn’t. In reality.”

”And theoretically?” he asks as if he didn’t know the truth now.

”I think you already know my answer.”

As he notices the desire starting to flicker across my eyes, I have to fend him off of me again, but now there is already a little smile hidden behind his pout. Still, I’m sure that the next seven weeks will take all my willpower.

 

”Considering we are surrounded by dry crackers, canned fruit, and cranky middle-aged couples, it might be safe to bring this up here as the romantic mood is a negative twelve,” Timmy starts.

We are downstairs in the dining room of the inn, and he is right. The general mood here is of people inconvenienced on their vacation, being stuck at their accommodation due to the heavy rain. The staff is serving food to the guests and they had originally promised actual dinner for everyone, but since there is no electricity, they have had to resort to putting out just ,emergency food supplies. A turn of events, which hasn’t exactly lifted the spirits of anyone any further.

We have much better snacks up in our room, but have deemed a public place a safer option for now, lest things get out of hand, so to speak. There is only a handful of other people in the dining room with us, but enough to keep us in line and our hands off of each other.

”Bring up what?” I ask.

”I was just thinking that a zero tolerance policy isn’t going to work, because we are going to have to do _some_ stuff during filming anyway. So we should just negotiate clear limits on what’s okay off-screen too. I mean, there’s no way I’m going to _not_ touch you at all for seven weeks,” he adds under his breath, even though we are out of everyone’s earshot.

”So you mean, like, what are the specific lines we shouldn’t cross?”

”Essentially, yes. Like, physically.”

”Well, for starters, sex would obviously be crossing a line, right?”

”Like all kinds of…?”

Amused, I confirm: ”All kinds.”

"Then could you at least kiss me?" He looks at me boldly from across the table, and then at my lips. How am I supposed to say no to him, when I have longed for this exact question for so long? And yet, I have to.

"I…fuck. _Fuck._ In theory it would be fine – hell, we've kissed before – but I just think that in this situation, it would be a slippery slope. For me at least, because just looking at you right now makes me want to do unspeakable things to you, and I know how things would escalate if..."

He drops his head to his hands. I lean on my forearms on the table and lower my head to his level.

"Come on, we can do all of the things after we've wrapped up the movie. We can make it through these seven weeks, we're reasonable adults."

”I’ve never wanted more not to be.”

He lifts his head and comes up with a sly counter-offer. This must be the most absurd negotiation I’ve ever been involved in.

”How about we just don’t kiss on the lips?” He sees me starting to say something and adds quickly: ”Or on any other, you know, too compromising regions?”

I close my eyes and think. He is probably not going to give up until he gets something, and I don’t really blame him. I’m almost starting to argue with myself, too.

”Okay, fine.”

”Really?”

”Yes really, but nothing too…exciting. I just want us to be, well, good.”

He rolls his eyes at my choice of words but is having trouble hiding his smile, having gotten his way.

”Fine, I deserved that,” I laugh.

He reaches for my hand over the table and pretends to press a kiss on my fingertips, but closes his mouth around my finger and then pulls it out in one slow suck. It’s brief but the wetness and warmth doesn’t go unnoticed by my compromising regions and I draw in a sharp breath.

”Like you said, we can do it, we’re adults, right?” he grins.

I shake my head at him for using my words against me and announce that I’m going to visit the buffet table again. He smiles victoriously, clearly determined that if he has to play by my rules, he is at least not going to make this easy for me.

 

 

 

I return to the table with a second helping of cheese and crackers and Timmy looks at me attentively when I sit down. He picks up a cracker from my plate and leans back in his chair.

He keeps looking at me, so I ask: ”What?”

”I was just thinking of what I want to do to you first when the seven weeks are over.”

I groan, helpless. ”Must you do this? And here?”

He pretends not to hear me and continues in a low voice: ”I want to make you do the sounds you did during filming, but this time for real. You know, the way you moaned below my ear when I sat in your lap and tugged at your hair?”

I consider for a second whether I should tell him or not. _Okay, two can play this game._

”Those may not have been acting. If anything, I may not have been able to stop myself,” I say matter-of-factly, pop a cracker in my mouth and watch him stop breathing for a second. It is just as well; if I have to sit in this dining room filled with strangers while feeling like all my blood has been drained and gathered to one place, he should too.

The look on his face tells me that I have succeeded. This escape to a public place, on the other hand, clearly has not.

 

 

 

When we get back to our room after the makeshift dinner, there is a large, brown cardboard box waiting for us on the table. Getting closer, we see that there is a slightly damp note tacked onto it with the logo of the production company.

Timmy grabs the note and reads:

” _Dear Armie and Timothée,_

 _Connecticut has already provided the rain, and here’s something to accompany it to make it feel even more like Crema circa 2016._ _Luca says hi._

 _xx, Daniela._ ”

There are four bottles of a fine Merlot and two wine glasses in the box. Someone in the universe has obviously decided that this is what we need right now: something to lessen our inhibitions. I rub my jaw and lift the bottles out of the box, lining them up on the table and eyeing them like they were the enemy.

Timmy first rummages in his backpack and then walks over to me holding a wine opener, looking perfectly innocent.

”Will you open it or should I?”

I sigh and take the first bottle. ”I’ll do it.”

How long was this storm supposed to last, again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's just say that their little agreement will be hard (pun intended) to stick to. So stay tuned…


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie notices that the struggle is real with the self-imposed rules for intimacy.

Timmy takes the last sip of wine from his glass as he peers out the window. The thunder and lightnings are subsiding but there’s still rain pummeling the windows loudly.

”You want more?” I ask after I finish getting a second helping of the Merlot myself.

He holds out his glass. ”Sure.”

”So when did you notice that you felt something?” I ask, settling on the couch, swirling the wine in my glass. It is still hard to believe he is actually feeling the same way about me as I do about him. I try not to look too enthusiastic when Timmy turns around even though I’m dying to hear his answer.

”The third week.”

”The third week of what?”

”The third week after you’d arrived in Crema. The night of the first dinner at your place.”

”When it was pouring rain and everyone canceled?”

”And I ended up being your only guest since I was already there when the rain started,” he laughs.

I think back. ”That was a fun evening. I do remember there being an unproportional amount of wine though, considering it ended up being just the two of us.”

”We also drank an unproportional amount of it. You didn’t want any of it to go to waste just because the others couldn’t make it.”

”Come on, it only makes sense. So, since then, huh? What happened that night?” I grin and nudge him with my foot.

He blushes like a teenager. ”Nothing happened, you know that.”

”No, I meant–”

”Yeah, yeah, I know what you meant. I don’t think it was any one single thing. I just realized that I felt uncharacteristically complete with you, and would have been perfectly happy if that night had continued for the rest of my life. If we never went back to filming; if we had never had to return to our previous lives.”

”You slept on my couch that night.”

”Well, that I might have wanted to make some changes to at some point, had we stayed in there in perpetuity.”

”I didn’t have any idea at that point,” I confess.

”About me feeling that way about you?”

”Yeah.”

”So when did you?”

People who had visited our set, had sometimes noted he was clearly head over heels for me. I tell him that I had just thought that they didn’t know how openly affectionate he was with everyone in general.

”And then, when the physical aspects sort of changed afterwards, it further convinced me that I had been right in my interpretation.”

”They only changed because I realized I had feelings for you in real life too, and was terrified that everyone would find out,” he clarifies.

”I guess that makes sense but I couldn’t figure it out, so I didn’t _really_ know until tonight when you told me. Not that I didn’t have my own suspicions occasionally. Like in Bergamo, when we were shooting the last scene at night.”

”What did I do, then?” He hides half of his face in his hands.

”You were just…very enthusiastic,” I tease him. ”And for example, before that, when I had tried to put my tongue in your mouth in the kissing scenes, you hadn’t…I mean, I guess you had decided that Elio wouldn’t kiss like that.”

”We did, though, that night.”

”Yes, because for the first time you let me. I did think it might have been because it was supposed to be the most unabashed kiss, but you were basically fusing into me.”

He clears his throat and runs his hand through his hair. ”I…I can’t really deny that. It was the last night of filming and I wanted to hold on to you and to our bubble for as long as I could.”

I smile. ”I think we ended up having to do so many takes because I was too much in my head. I kept forgetting what we were supposed to do in the scene, because I kept gauging your reactions and trying to figure out what had changed and why.”

”I wasn’t complaining. About the extra takes, I mean,” he grins, sitting down next to me on the couch.

”Me neither,” I look at him fondly, which makes his grin melt into a sweet smile. ”I did end up trying to cover you with my arm though, because I didn’t want to show everything to the camera. Somehow it felt like our private goodbye and I only knew that I didn’t want to share that with everyone else.”

”Little did we know that it would be far from a final goodbye.”

”It has been our last kiss though.” I don’t know why I had to bring up that fact. I have kept thinking about kissing him for the past two days; I don’t need to make this any harder on myself.

”So far.”

”So far.” After a beat, I continue: ”Did you know that humans have specific nerve cells that help them locate each other’s lips in the dark.”

”What?”

I can’t blame Timmy for being confused.

”Yeah, they studied it with monkeys and plastic tubes or something.”

”Oh?”

”Anyway, I just remember reading it somewhere.”

After it becomes clear that apparently I just like to torment us both by talking about kissing without any intention of following through, Timmy turns the tables on me.

”So when did you know? About yourself?”

”I felt a certain way already during filming, but back then, I don’t think I thought of it as anything more than Oliver’s thoughts blending in with mine.”

”So only after?”

”Well, the moment when I realized I was, for lack of a better word, fucked, was in Paris. I mean, we had been hanging out a bunch, but at that point I finally realized it wasn’t only my mind that wanted to be around you, but my body as well.”

”Hmm. What happened?”

”You were shimmying out of your jacket on stage during one of the panels, looking so annoyingly smug, and yet I realized I couldn’t look away and in my mind, started taking off the rest of your clothes.”

” _Mon Dieu_ ,  _Monsieur_ Hammer!”

I smile sheepishly. ”It was torture trying to get through the rest of that day and the long dinner. I distinctly remember Luca ordering round after round of desserts and cheeses and calvados, when all I wanted was to get back to my room to take care of my problem.”

”And did you?”

”Of course.”

He stares at the ceiling and looks just as smug as he had in Paris on that day years ago. ”Interesting.”

”And I was kind of hoping that that would have gotten it out of my system, because that…stuff was certainly complicating things, but surprise, surprise, it did not.”

He thinks for a moment and then says, choosing each word deliberately: ”Let me get this straight: during our press tour, you would go back to your hotel room and get yourself off while thinking of me?”

”I feel like you’re not going to let me live this down…but it may have happened a few times, yes.”

He climbs onto my lap before I even finish the sentence.

”Live it down? That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

His eyes are locked on my lips and both of his hands are threaded in my hair. He looks at me intently. ”So tell me.”

Against my better judgment, I let my hands grab the backs of his thighs and I pull him closer. ”That Paris one was actually a very useful scenario, forcefully ripping that white t-shirt of yours off and so on. But sure, there were others. In Rome, where we had the connecting rooms? More than once, I pictured myself walking in on you coming out of the shower. And then there was that white Berluti, that suit was so fucking pristine that in my head I’ve ruined it – and you – multiple times.”

His breath hitches and he shifts in my lap.

”At..at the Oscars?”

”Yeah. The movie theater bit with Kimmel, remember that? It was a welcome respite from being near you, so I practically jumped at the chance. It was killing me to be just sitting there, looking at the back of your neck, while pretending on live television that I wasn’t half hard…”

”You’re more than half hard now,” he points out the obvious and bites his lip.

”I know and since we can’t do anything about it, you’d better go back to sit on your side of the couch,” I warn him.

”I don’t want to.”

”I don’t really want you to either, but baby, you’re making things very difficult for me here.”

”Baby? Is that a thing we’re doing now? You can’t fuck me, but ”baby” is okay?”

He tries to make it sound as if he is joking, but the frustration in his voice is obvious.

”I can hold off on calling you baby but we already discussed the other thing, and I haven’t changed my opinion on that during the past” – I check my watch – ”two hours.”

He climbs off my lap.

”Don’t hold off on calling me baby,” he says quietly as he settles his head against the back of the couch.

 

 

 

At some point we move onto the bed. He lies next to me, head next to mine on my pillow, nose almost touching my cheek. The insulation of the windows leaves something to be desired, and the chill from the wind is seeping through, so I spread a blanket over us.

I weave my fingers through his silky curls and tug them gently at the nape of his neck.

”I've never done this before with your longer hair,” I say softly.

He smiles and laces his fingers with my other hand on top of the blanket.

”Have you ever felt this way about a man before?” After all the fun and games, a serious question.

”No, not really.”

”Why not?”

”Not sure. My guess is, they haven't been you.” I’m not able to articulate it any better than that yet, but he doesn’t really expect me to.

”You are being insanely cheesy.”

”It’s not cheesy, it’s the truth.”

”I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

He lifts his head from the pillow and presses kisses to my temple, my closed eyelids, and gently licks my eyelashes with the tip of his tongue, trying to catch each one separately.

”I just want to lick every inch of you.”

I pull him even closer under the blanket. We are approaching dangerous territory but I can’t really keep my hands off of him either.

”You’re making a valiant effort, my friend, but let’s keep the film in mind, shall we. So certain regions are still off-limits for the next seven weeks.”

He tugs at the neckline of my shirt to bite gently on my collarbone and follows with a tender kiss on the same spot. ”There’s so much of you that it may take me seven weeks to even get to those regions.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget the seven weeks; can they even make it out of that room?


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dam breaks.

”The me from six years ago still can’t believe he’s here. I just wish we hadn’t wasted all this time,” Timmy sighs. He’s gotten up before things got too heated and sits cross-legged at the foot of the bed now.

”I would like to think that it’s not really time wasted, that things happen in life when you are ready. Even if in hindsight, it might seem like things could’ve gone differently.”

”Makes sense that you would say that,” he says pensively.

”What do you mean?”

”I mean that since you said that you have had feelings for years, then all this time it really was up to you to figure out whether this would be worth the risk.”

”How was it all on me?”

”I think it was pretty obvious that I would have done anything for you, so I figured you just weren’t interested,” he shrugs. I watch him get off the bed.

”I didn’t know that. How could I have?”

”I really kinda thought you knew. Especially since other people kept noticing it too,” Timmy insists.

I stand up too and start pacing the expanse of the room slightly annoyed.

”Sure, people kept telling me that, but you never actually did or said anything that would go beyond a close friendship, so.”

”You were married.”

”We have been talking almost every day for over a year while I have not been,” I remind him.

”And somehow you didn’t say anything during that time either, even though you claim that you already figured out last summer what you wanted.”

”It’s rude to tell someone you want them when they are dating someone else.” The existence of Ines hasn’t slipped from my mind, even with his continous insistence that their relationship hadn’t been that intense.

”Hasn’t stopped you before.”

”And look how that ended.”

We are both frustrated at the thought of having lost all this time and now having to still keep things civilized, and are taking it out on each other. We have never really fought or even had a serious argument before, beyond one of us having had a bad day and therefore having been less than considerate. Hence, this is already making me anxious but he is not letting me off the hook.

”Please don’t compare what we have to what you two had. It’s not fair to any of us. And besides, you knew how things stood between me and Ines, so don’t pretend it was her that was stopping you. You were just afraid of risking your comfortable life for me.”

”I wasn’t afraid of–”

”Then what was it?”

”I didn’t want to change things. Us.”

”Oh. Okay. I see.” He backs away from me slowly. ”I have to say, this is a bit confusing because of what you said earlier; that you needed to change things and what was missing from your life was me. Apparently it doesn’t mean what I thought it did. You just want me around for company, but that’s it. You don’t want anything to change really, or anything more or real.”

”Now you’re just twisting my words. I didn’t mean that I actually wanted things to stay where they were, I just didn’t want to risk ruining our friendship.”

”If I didn’t feel the same way back?”

”I could have lived with my unrequited feelings – hell, I did, up until now – but I would not have been able to deal with losing your friendship if things got weird, or losing you altogether if things didn’t work out.”

”Because what would happen? You would lose your FaceTime buddy, the one to keep you from feeling lonely at downtime on set?”

He is intentionally provoking me, perhaps because he wants to get to the core of the truth and knows how unlikely it is for me to truly bare my heart if I have any semblance of self-control left.

I squeeze my eyes shut and feel tears burning behind my eyelids.

”Why wasn’t it worth the risk, though, to take that leap of faith?” he asks again, at once furious and dejected.

It comes out, much louder than I intended: ”Because I would die without you, okay?”

Silence falls in the room, save for the sharpness of the raindrops on the metallic window sill.

”You think I wouldn’t?” he then says softly.

I open my eyes to see him looking like he has thought that possibility through millions of times and is reliving it again.

”Oh Christ, fuck the film,” I grunt, and in three long strides I have crossed the room over to him and I push him against the wall without thinking twice.

My lips crash onto his and it is a desperate kiss, to show him that my hesitation is no longer; that my years of risk calculations are over. His tongue is equally in despair and famished, it finds mine like its life depended on it. My hands curls around the back of his head to keep him in place but there would be no need as he practically hangs on to me, clutching the fabric of my shirt in his fists. When we finally come up for air, he starts:

”I thought we weren’t supp–”

I shut him up by kissing him again and he responds by yanking me even closer. Both of our breathing gets shallow as I push my hands under his t-shirt, figuring that we might as well burn everything down now that we already started. Or at least he has to be the one to put a stop to this, because I will not be able to anymore.

His skin is warm and smooth and soft and even though my hands are large enough to cover most of his back, it is still not nearly enough contact for either of us.

There are no more questions from him when he pulls his shirt over his head and starts to unbutton mine, kissing every square inch of my skin as soon as his fingers expose it. After the last button, he pushes the sleeves down my arms and we barely even pay attention when the shirt drops to the floor.

His arms wrap around my neck as if in slow motion, and his fingers try to push their way into the short hair at the nape of my neck. I pull him flush against me by his waist and bend down to kiss his throat, sucking at the spot that I had discovered always made him shudder during filming. His moans tell me that I haven’t forgotten its location.

He tightens his grip on my hair forcefully in return and instead of trying to stop any of this, he breathes in my ear: ”Can we..? Please?”

We are standing right next to the bed, so I could just push him onto it, but that suddenly seems much too mundane for something I had thought I would never be able to have. So I pick him up in my arms, off his feet, and place him gently on the bed.

The look in his eyes is surprised and amused, like he has been given a gift he didn’t expect, but it quickly gives way to dark lust as he reaches up for me, hooking his fingers in my belt loops and pulling me on top of him.

Breathless, I lean my forehead against his, and only then do I start to realize that I’m somewhat at a loss, unsure of how I should go about this with a man. My experience is limited to our cursory, directed rehearsals for the film and even those had included a lot of fumbling on my part. What would he even want me to…?

He sees the vulnerable look on my face and his eyes are pools of affection when he pushes me onto my back tenderly and whispers: ”I know. I’ve got you.”

Leaning over me, he brushes his lips against mine and kisses my bottom lip. His tongue slips in my mouth and explores with the kind of languid tenderness that we didn’t have patience for before. It all feels familiar, with echoes from years ago, but also brand new because this is just us, no roles to play.

Slowly, he then kisses the corner of my mouth and along my jaw. Letting his lips barely skim my throat, he continues by dropping wet kisses down my chest, my stomach – followed by his pink tongue licking down the same trail as my muscles first tense up and then relax under his touch.

This had been the exact reason why I had insisted on the kissing ban. I know myself and knew that if I had even the smallest taste of him I would be gone completely. And so it comes as no surprise that the world seems to spin around us and then fade into a blur when his elegant, slender fingers snake their way into my jeans. He opens the button, pulls my zipper down and helps me squirm my way out of the rest of my clothing.

I can feel his lips curve into a smile against my skin when his hot breath traveling up my inner thigh makes me moan instantly on contact. Yet, that is only a prelude to what his mouth can do at its next destination, where it doesn’t take very long for him to simultaneously introduce me to the worlds of heaven and hell.

”God Tim, this is…please, I feel like this isn’t going to last very… long if you...”

”You’re not a teen anymore, come on,” he grins, and pressing his hands on my thighs to hold me still, slowly licks along my entire length. I arch my back violently when his tongue hits a deliriously sensitive spot. How did he even know about that?

My head swims. ”Oh fuck – this…this may be an exception. After all, it’s like there’s been six years of…for– foreplay.”

Maybe he agrees with me because he finally humors me, coming up to kiss me on the lips again.

”You’re just so fucking beautiful and I can’t believe I’m allowed to do this to you,” he murmurs against my mouth. ”And I don’t mean your stupid rule from earlier, but like, that the universe allows me to be here with you now, doing this.”

After yet another sloppy open-mouth kiss that turns my brain into liquid, he works his way slowly down again, careful about keeping me on the edge but not pushing me over. My palm resting on the curls at the back of his head, he teases me for enough of rounds that eventually I no longer ask him to hold back, but instead beg him not to stop. I keep thinking how this is the wildest, most all-consuming state I have ever been in and how is it possible that he of all people is the one to so masterfully hold me at his mercy and why did we wait so long and what did I ever do to deserve this and _Tim_ and then I’m suddenly not capable of thinking at all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Their night isn't over yet, so more next week, same time, same place.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night continues where we left off, and we are still well within the city limits of Smutville. Next exit, Flufftown.

Through my haze, I register Timmy smiling at me contentedly. As he lays himself down on top of me with swollen lips and his sweaty skin sticking to my chest, time seems to stop turning. He presses his ear against my heart and I have finally arrived where I had always belonged; I had been at the door many times but never before allowed in until now. And I never want to leave.

When my pulse has calmed down enough, I shift gingerly away from underneath him and place him on the bed beside me.

”What, why?” he whines, clearly disappointed at losing the skin contact between our bodies, even for a second.

I press my nose behind his ear and graze his earlobe with my teeth.

”My turn, baby,” I smile against the milky skin. ”Take off your jeans.”

His pout breaks into a grin as he gets up and soon I have him back on the bed, his lips on mine and his naked, pliant body pressing against me.

I fully plan to undo him as thoroughly and completely as his touch had undone me, and maybe not surprisingly, it turns out that he is just as sensitive and responsive to my caresses as I had been to his. I have never been more turned on by a sound than I am by his gasp as soon as my fingers start grazing the delicate bare skin on his chest, and he trembles when they move down to his stomach and lower. The fact that I can be the cause of that almost blinds me with desire again.

I lie next to him on the bed cradling his head and kissing every feature on his lovely face, while my hand makes him shiver and call out my name in between expletives and heavy breaths and, in the end, bite onto my shoulder to keep himself from alarming the other patrons at the inn.

 

 

 

Timmy rolls on top of me when he has come down from his post-orgasmic high and reaches up to kiss me sloppily, still slightly shaken. I weave my fingers in his damp hair and we lie in silence for a long while. Eventually we laugh at the sticky mess that we have become and I suggest we clean up before everything dries down completely.

Taking one of the candles with us to the bathroom, we shower in the near-dark. The plan to clean up almost turns out to be counter-productive when his wet stomach presses against mine and his delicate hands start to soap me up. We end up restraining ourselves nevertheless, and only kiss for ages under the water stream until Timmy makes a game out of licking the water drops running down my throat.

 

 

 

After we’ve dried ourselves off, we open another bottle from the wine delivery and slip back under the covers.

”That botched dinner party of mine you talked about earlier, the one in Crema.”

”Yeah, what about it?” he asks, placing his glass on the nightstand after taking a long sip. The wine has colored his lips to a darker shade of mauve.

”If we had both been, you know, free agents back then, do you think the evening would have ended differently after your realization of your feelings?”

”I don’t know. Maybe.”

”If only things had been different, right?” I think about the roads traveled and untraveled, but at least we are here now.

”Yeah.”

”So what would you have done?” I ask, curious.

”Whether you had been single or not, I would have been very hesitant to make any moves, that’s for sure,” he laughs and shakes his head.

”Why?”

”Come on, we had only known each other for three weeks at that point, and I wouldn’t have dared to go after _Armie fucking Hammer_ the first time we get drunk alone.”

”What if you had known that I liked you, too?”

”You mean _liked_ as in..?”

”Yes.”

I have been sitting up in the bed, leaning against the headboard and he settles now in my lap, back against my chest, long legs lined up between mine.

”And how would I have known that?”

”I might have flirted with you.” I draw lazy circles around his left nipple, grazing over it occasionally. ”Hinting that I wasn’t too disappointed that the others couldn’t make it.”

He nestles the back of his head against my shoulder, curls falling on my collarbone. ”In that case, I might have nudged you with my foot when I was lying at the other end of that couch when we had that movie on. I probably watched you more than I watched the movie that night, by the way.”

”I would have then taken that foot in my lap.”

”Oh?”

”And slowly stroked the arch and the ankle and maybe ran my hand up your calf. Just to see how you’d react.”

”I would have been mesmerized.”

”But I wouldn’t have done more. I would have left the next move up to you.”

”Why do I have to make all the moves?” He turns his head enough to reach and place a kiss on my bicep.

”Because you’re braver than me.” We are playing pretend, but that is true in every iteration and timeline. He presents himself all awkward and self-deprecating, but I have never met anyone who so fearlessly goes after the things that he wants, all the while accepting the fact that sometimes you succeed and other times fail and both outcomes are okay as long as you keep going and learning.

He decides to humor me. ”Okay, so I probably would have then teased you about your incessant need to show off when you kept telling me every single trivia detail about the making of the movie.”

”I think you did that in reality too.”

”Hmm, I did, didn’t I?” he scrunches his nose and smiles.

”And if you had kept that up, we would have ended up wrestling on the floor, me trying to teach you a lesson about respecting filmmaking history.”

”And you would have had me pinned down and surrendering in no time, obviously.”

”Obviously,” I chuckle.

”I never even had a chance because I was up against a giant.”

”But then I would have noticed how close our faces were.”

”I would have noticed it too and for the first time realized how blue your eyes really were.”

”And the warm buzz from the wine – how many bottles did we drink again? – would have conveniently kept us from thinking too much.”

”I might have licked my lips, hoping you would have been able to take a hint.”

”I would have leaned down, still holding your arms above your head, but waiting for you to close the final distance between our lips, if you really wanted it to happen.”

He strokes my thighs lightly with his fingertips. ”I would have wanted it to happen.”

”And then?”

”I would have fought my arms free so that I could wrap them around you and pull you down against me.”

”I would have let you.”

”I would have pulled your hair to gain better access to your neck.”

”Mhmm.”

”And we would have kissed wherever we could reach until it wasn’t enough for either of us anymore, and I would have pleaded with you to take me to your bedroom.”

Timmy sits up and turns around, straddling me. We have both been fully hard for a while now.

He leans in close. ”Would you have said yes?”

I nod, realizing that I probably would have.

His lips are almost touching mine when he asks, breathless: ”I want you to fuck me, Armie.”

He looks up at me from under his hooded eyelids, eyes again as dark as his lashes. His request instantly ignites the desire that has been steadily pooling all over my body and I roll him off of me and onto his back.

There are no more clothes to remove, but I push the covers off before I drown his lithe body with kisses. Between them he manages to ask:

”Do you have anything you can use as lube?”

I shake my head. ”I wasn’t exactly…”

”…planning on seducing me? Yeah right, like I’m gonna believe that,” he smirks.

That earns him playful pokes on his sides and he twitches laughing, but manages to wave in the direction of his bag on the floor where I find what I need.

I take my time getting him ready for me, my mouth all the while stifling his loudest moans. When I eventually settle in between his thighs he tries to tilt his head back, but I beg him to keep his eyes open and look at me when I give him what he has wanted for six years.

What I have not expected is that inside him, with his eyes locked on mine, I finally feel complete too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple more chapters to come; next update next weekend :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm passes and the boys face Luca in the morning.

I wake up to a silence, even though the high winds had still raged outside when we had finally fallen asleep. That had been only a few hours earlier, barely before dawn. We had been spent after our lovemaking but hadn’t wanted to go to sleep just yet and instead, had just talked for a long time, about both the most and least important things. The inevitable conversation about _what does all of this mean_ had been very short and unanimous, as it probably always is between people who know what they want, and who already know each other inside and out. Still, even though it feels like we are jumping right into an established relationship, I had insisted that as soon as we would get a break in our schedule, I would take him out on a proper first date.

Timmy had requested that the plan include dancing, but I had made no promises to do that in public.

”Maybe after we get back to the hotel and are alone,” I had offered.

He had seemed to be satisfied with that.

”I don’t care where we are, as long as there’s music and your arms are around me”, he had said.

Eventually the exhaustion had caught up with us, and after one more goodnight kiss – Timmy had insisted on many, to make up for the lost years – I had pulled him into my arms under the covers. Him nestling his head against my chest, we had both closed our eyes. He had fallen asleep almost immediately, with his arm resting across my body as if he was holding onto me. I had listened to his steady breathing for a while, slowly stroking his back and barely able to contain my happiness, before giving in to sleep myself.

 

 

 

Now that the storm has passed, the early morning sun casts its innocent rays into our room through the sliver of space left between the curtains. My arm is wrapped around Timmy as he still sleeps tucked against my side, his dark curls splayed on my chest. He stirs awake and looks up at me with eyes that are barely opening.

”Good morning.”

It takes a couple of seconds for him to realize where he is and to recall what has happened. I can see when his brain is all up to speed again, because his sleepy expression melts into a blissful smile.

”Good morning.”

He pushes himself up enough to let his thumb trace slowly over my cheekbone, smooth my forehead, and play with the hair near my temple as if to check that I’m really here. When he seems convinced enough, he rests his chin on my chest and smiles up at me.

”Just wanted to make sure this isn’t a dream.”

”Thanks for not pinching me this time.” I run my hand through his hair, pushing stray strands away from his eyes.

”It’ll take time to get used to this. I mean, actually getting to wake up next to you.”

”And you’ll have to get used to this, too,” I say and roll us over, me now leaning over him.

I kiss the trail of freckles across his face, starting with the one above his left eyebrow and ending my quest with the two on his top lip. This is how I want to wake up from now on, every morning of every day.

 

 

 

After breakfast, we get a text from the production manager. Since the weather is now co-operating, everything on yesterday’s itinerary will resume today. A car will be sent to bring us to Luca’s friend’s house where our director is staying, and we will start with a table read there with everyone else. As we are packing our bags for the day, Timmy lets out an amused chuckle.

”So we really couldn’t hold ourselves back for two days, let alone seven weeks. I must admit though, I’m not very surprised.”

”Me neither,” I grin and walk over to kiss him, just because I can.

”I mean, I personally totally could have, but I had zero faith in your self-control,” he continues with an intentional glint in his eyes.

He barely misses my playful swat and I chase him across the room. We end up in a heap on the bed, him squirming under me, giggling breathlessly on the sheets crumpled by our very first night together.

The car sent to pick us up has to wait longer than what is appropriate but we are too happy to care about the poor driver.

 

 

 

When we arrive, it turns out that Luca’s friend lives in an actual, bona fide mansion. No wonder Luca has chosen to stay there instead of a hotel. Timmy rings the bell when we get to the door and Luca’s personal assistant Daniela comes to greet us, with Luca right behind her.

”Welcome boys, it’s so good to see you both, Timmy, Armie,” he kisses us both on the cheek. ”So this is really it, here we go! The weather tries to mess with us once again, but we keep it together just like last time. We will start with the table read today and then maybe start shooting the first university scenes tomorrow, if we can get the clearances transferred from yesterday. It should be rather quiet around there since it’s a Saturday, even if they can’t clear that area of the campus completely.”

”Sounds perfect,” we chime in unison.

”Okay, so get your scripts and follow me, almost everyone is here already.”

Luca starts towards the living room, but then turns back around as if he had forgotten something.

”Oh, and do you think that we will need another ice breaker rehearsal, just to achieve the right tone of the physical intimacy. You two haven’t really seen each other for quite a long time now, yes?”

Timmy and I look at each other. I certainly wouldn’t mind kissing Timmy again for ten minutes if ordered to do so by our director. But then again, I also realize that Luca would see right through us and notice that it would be just a continuation of a kiss we pulled apart from in the car five minutes ago. Wordlessly we agree that there is no point hiding anything from him. The truth would come out sooner or later anyway and with Luca’s perceptiveness, probably sooner.

Timmy addresses Luca, his eyes still on mine.

”Actually… I don’t think there’s a need for one this time.”

As we keep looking at each other, not being able to hide our smiles, I’m certain Luca can read the events of the entire night just by looking at our faces. He takes one glance at me and then Timmy, and only nods approvingly. There is also a hint of smile and contentment, like something had been checked off his to-do list.

”Ah, I see.  _Finalmente_. Good for you. Now, let’s get to the table read, _andiamo_.”

Slightly baffled – yet pleased – by his matter-of-fact attitude we leave it at that, and go back to pick up our bags and scripts from the foyer. As we walk away, I hear Daniela emerge from one of the rooms and walk over to Luca, confused.

”Luca, someone from the inn has just emailed me apologizing for the error in the room reservation, but I don’t think there was any. You told me to book just the one suite, right?”

I glance at them over my shoulder. Luca shrugs, looking at me like he has no idea what his assistant is talking about but shuffles her away quickly, muttering something in Italian.

I should probably be more surprised at his ways, but to be honest, at this point, I could almost be convinced that he controls the weather, too. I walk over to Timmy who is bent over gathering his belongings from the floor, curls hanging over his eyes. He has clearly not paid any attention to Luca or Daniela.

”Timmy, do you think we would be here right now if there had been no storm, and there had been two rooms available? I mean, like _here_ , you and I?” I ask.

He tucks a curl behind his ear and thinks. ”Maybe not today, but considering everything we’ve talked about, I can’t imagine we wouldn’t have ended up here sooner or later.”

”I’m glad it’s sooner.”

He agrees and kisses me softly against the wall of Luca’s friend’s foyer, backpack almost falling from his shoulder, balancing his hat, scarf, and the script in his hands. We only break apart when we hear Daniela’s voice call out for us from the sitting room.

”Are you guys ready to start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for an epilogue, coming up in just a few days. (And surprise surprise, a little extra one-shot even after that, only because I'm currently having trouble letting go of these versions of the boys…)


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue. Set around the last days of filming the sequel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just tooth-rottingly fluffy, but the author is #notsorry and maybe it's fitting for today <3 
> 
> Please also see the end notes: despite this being the epilogue, there's a tiny bit more of these versions of the boys on the horizon.

”Three days left,” he shouts from the bathroom over the sound of the water running.

”I know, crazy, isn’t it?” I yell back while buttoning up my shirt in front of the mirror.

It is very much a different feeling than last time. The filming is about to end soon, but there is none of that same dread of this having been a singular experience that would now be over for good. This time, I know for certain that I get to carry these feelings with me wherever I go, and that I’m not only a better actor but a better person for them. I won’t have to leave any of these people behind; they will keep weaving in and out of my daily life even through other projects.

And then there is of course this one specific person, who I’m planning not to let out of my sight for the next two weeks after the final ” _That’s a wrap!_ ” has been announced. The sequel has explored Oliver’s and Elio’s separate life paths for most of the film, so Timmy and I haven’t gotten to shoot that many scenes together. Sharing a room at night and waking up together in the morning has made up for that fact to an extent, but it has still been frustrating for us to spend most parts of our days away from each other, in different locations, in different cities even.

A warm feeling rushes over me when I glance at our plane tickets on top of the pile of papers on my dresser and remember that that will not be the case for much longer.

Timmy emerges from the bathroom with a towel around his waist, pushing his wet hair off his eyes, and all I can think about is the multitude of ways I want to devour him. I’m starting to wonder how it is humanly possible that I want him all of the time. I tell him as much and he wraps his arms around my neck.

”You can have me all of the time.”

We end up kissing for so long that the water dripping from his curls forms a puddle on the floor.

”What time is it, should we be down there already?”

I look at my watch.

”No, we still have about half an hour before they need us. So there’s plenty of time for me to be down here…” I unwrap his towel and kneel at his feet.

 

 

 

Thirty minutes later we gather our belongings and head out the door. We sit together in the backseat as our car pulls away from the hotel and gingerly starts to head towards our penultimate shooting location through the sleet and icy rain. Timmy slips his hand on my thigh and I cover it with mine.

”You’ll have to tell me what to bring to the islands, I have like, no idea how hot it’s going to be or what we’re going to be needing. I’m imagining things like machetes and hats with mosquito netting.”

We both laugh.

”You city kid… No, it’s a very civilized place, the scorching sun will be your only enemy. Bring your hat and a bunch of sunscreen and we’ll be fine.”

”I can’t wait to see it,” he smiles.

”You do know I will be taking you everywhere and talking your ear off about everything that ever happened in every place, right?”

”I know. Like I said, can’t wait. I want to learn how you became you.”

He looks at me with adoration. I wrap my arm around his shoulders and press a firm kiss on his hair. The final scenes tomorrow and the day after, the scenes where it is supposed to be obvious that Oliver and Elio are still very much in love when they meet after years apart, will not be a challenge for us.

 

 

 

A little over a week later we are on the beach, overlooking the Caribbean Sea. We have a private villa, away from the resorts and the potential paparazzi. We will cross that bridge when we eventually have to, and it will probably throw everything around us into turmoil for a while, but for now, we can still remain in our bubble for a little longer.

Timmy is still in the water while I have already had my share of swimming for tonight and am enjoying just looking at him anyway. His carefree splashing fills me with joy, as does most everything that he does. How did I ever get this lucky?

For the past four days we have been exploring the island, and he has wanted to know everything about my childhood here, asking a million questions, occasionally overwhelming me with the realization that someone actually cares this much. The mid-afternoon naps in the crisp white king bed at the villa have consisted less of actual sleeping and more of languid lovemaking. For dinner, we have alternated between freshly caught seafood and me barbecuing on the deck while Timmy shows off his miscellaneous dance moves, only stopping to steal a kiss from me every now and then. And one would think that after six years of incessant talking, we would have run out of dinner conversation topics, but no. There still isn’t anyone in the world I would rather talk to than him. The meals always end with one of us not being able to wait any longer and, with a lingering caress of a foot or him climbing into my lap, suggesting that we move on to the dessert part of the night.

He gets out of the water now and walks over to me happy and dripping wet, fully trusting that either I or the Caribbean sun will soon dry him off.

”I can’t get over how warm the water is here! Nothing like the waters of the Rockaway Beach or in the Hamptons.”

”I know.”

He stands on tiptoes to kiss me and then turns to look at the sun setting behind the horizon, with the wonder in his eyes that I hope will never cease to exist. I wrap my arms around him and he settles contentedly against my chest. He smells of sunscreen, salt, and my future.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, for all the comments, kudos, messages, and for the overall appreciation and support across platforms. I’m beyond glad to know there are people who have enjoyed this, because I've loved writing it.
> 
> AND, I leave you with a parting gift: I still want to explore their first date that they discussed in Chapter 10, but it didn't fit into the planned structure of this (it'll be set around week 3 or 4 of filming the sequel), so I'll be doing that as a separate one-shot. I have already converted this work into Part 1 of a series called "New England", so you can bookmark or subscribe to the series if you'd like to keep track of when that extra piece posts :) Hope to see you there!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you everyone so much for your support, across all platforms <3 
> 
> Would love to hear what you think, and I'm also on tumblr: [angel-in-new-york-city](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com)


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